


Westward

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 2020 Dimilix Week, First Kiss (?), M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, The Western Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22716178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: The road unfurled westward. Felix rode out upon it, alone amidst a hundred men, his eyes fixed on only one.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 18
Kudos: 92
Collections: 2020 Dimilix Week





	Westward

**Author's Note:**

> Dimilix Week 2020 - Day One - Firsts/Sunset

Felix sat straight in the saddle, chin high, wearing the same tight-lipped, narrow-eyed expression Glenn had worn the very last time Felix had ever seen him alive. He had seemed so composed, so competent, so invincible in his new fitted armor, gleaming in the sunlight, riding through the gates with his battalion of fine Fraldarius soldiers at his back. 

He remembered his father’s hand on his shoulder, warm through his coat. He remembered trying in vain to blink back his own tears. He remembered, worst of all, that he had been crying not because he had entertained even for a moment the idea that any ill might befall his brother on his journey south, that he might never return, or even because he would miss him while he was gone.

He had stood there obstinately beside his father, arms crossed over his chest, sniffling and whining with tears dribbling down his cheeks almost entirely because he had been _jealous._ He had wanted so badly to be allowed to go, too. 

He wondered if he would ever be able to think about that day again without feeling the urge to vomit. 

Not that it mattered. He was sure that no one looking at him now would be able to tell what he was thinking, or how he felt about it. He’d practiced this closed and shuttered expression for countless hours before a mirror, comparing his own features to Glenn’s in the watery lens of his memory, determined to be every bit as inscrutable as his brother had always been when he’d wanted his thoughts to be his and his alone.

No one dared to question or even approach him, which he took as a sign of success. Dimitri, who rode even more regally at the front of the column, never even looked back, not even once. 

Resolutely, he ignored the ache in his chest and the childish, embarrassing _want_ fluttering in his middle, yearning for his prince’s attention as it always had. Even so, he couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering constantly back to study the shape of him, limned increasingly in gold and orange as the day gave way to the setting sun. His royal armor made his shoulders seem broader, his body more solid, its trimmings of royal blue and silver brocade marking him for miles around for exactly what he was -- the crown prince, the royal heir, the only living scion of House Blaiddyd. 

Once, he had been Felix’s best friend. 

He didn’t know what they were, now. If they were anything, anymore. 

His shoulder ached with the memory of his father’s fingers, squeezing tight. He had not looked down at him, and Felix had not looked up; rather, they had both gazed westward in synchronized melancholy, lost in their separate memories of the same day. _Do your duty,_ his father had said. _And remember this, Felix. There is little that can compare to the strength of bonds forged in battle._

Of course he’d say that. Everyone knew the stories of Lord Rodrigue and Prince Lambert, riding north to secure the border from the Sreng incursion. How the two of them had been close before that, but nigh inseparable after. 

It was ridiculous, Felix thought, for his old man to think his path such an easy one to follow. To presume that Felix wanted or intended to follow it at all! To suggest in his familiar, infuriating, roundabout way that putting down this uprising in the west together would somehow smooth the jagged edges between Felix and his prince, reforge whatever it was between them that had broken, bridge the bottomless gap that only seemed to grow wider by the day. 

It was unfair, Felix thought, for his father to offer him that sort of hope.

The road unfurled westward. Felix rode out upon it, alone amidst a hundred men, his eyes fixed on only one.

* 

The nights passed, for the most part, in quiet solitude. Felix considered this too a mark of success, and concluded that his brother’s scowls fit well on his own face. The thought brought him more comfort than any companionship possibly could have, though his eyes still searched across the fire now and then for glimpses of royal blue. 

By the third day, the towns they passed near appeared sparse and eerily abandoned, their gates closed, their people fled in one direction or another -- further west to join the rebels, or back east to seek succor at the capital. The atmosphere of their war camp grew grim with the knowledge that the fighting might begin any day. 

Felix tried not to let it affect him. He kept his customary position, near the front of the column yet behind the prince, and let his eyes burn holes in the back of his royal head. His father had no idea what he was talking about. The prince hadn’t so much as exchanged two words with him, and even if battle did strengthen bonds, what did it matter, if… 

At the head of the column, one of his father’s knights bent his head to murmur something in the prince’s ear. Dimitri snapped his chin up and then glanced backward, eyes wide, and all the self indulgent, melancholy thoughts rolling around in Felix’s head froze and then fled him entirely.

Dimitri’s eyes met Felix’s, catching his longing stare, and his lips parted, just a fraction. 

Felix felt his face go warm, a telltale flush creeping up beneath his collar to give him away. He tightened his jaw and dropped his gaze with a huff, refusing to prolong his own embarrassment. What had that knight even _said_ to him, to make him turn back so suddenly? 

He kept his face turned firmly down until the sun crawled its way to the far horizon and the column ground to a halt to pitch camp for another long, excruciating night.

He sat, as he always did, near the largest bonfire at the heart of the camp. Sworn knights and good soldiers milled restlessly around him, the strict discipline of the camp worn with tension and anticipation, both. _You can practically smell them,_ he heard someone say, spitting their distaste. _Rebels in the hills._ Faces all turned westward in unison, and Felix stared with them, gazing at the hills in the distance with an anxious flutter cramping all his guts. He wondered, briefly, if Glenn had been even half as nervous on the eve of _his_ first battle. 

And then the soldiers around him began standing, practically leaping to their feet. Some covered their hearts with one hand, and others bowed their heads so their chins practically touched their chests, and Felix sat utterly flabbergasted in place until he realized that his prince was making his way toward him through the camp. 

It was absurd, Felix thought, that the thought of dealing with Dimitri affected him so much more than the prospect of cutting down men and women in the field. Sick, really. His guts squeezed and his mouth went desert dry. What the hell was wrong with him? 

There was no time to ponder. Dimitri met his searching gaze and smiled, his soft, kind expression lighting up his face. It stole away all the air in Felix’s lungs, like it always did. Absurd. He dropped his gaze, his face hot.

“Good evening, Felix,” Dimitri said, too familiar and too formal all at once. “May I sit with you, for just a moment?” 

_Of course,_ he thought. _Please,_ he opened his mouth to say, but that was ridiculous, that was clingy and needy and too childish a thing to say by far. 

“If you must,” he said, instead, and that was better. He said it the way Glenn always had, terse and vaguely put upon. 

Dimitri nodded, once, and then moved stiffly to seat himself beside him. Felix felt the warmth of his body at his side more keenly than the fire blazing before them, lighting up the night. 

“Thank you,” Dimitri said, as though Felix’s response had been perfectly polite. 

Slowly, the knights and squires and soldiers milling around them inched away, leaving them alone in an absurd, abnormal, highly conspicuous little pocket of quiet in the midst of their camp. Felix watched the fire pop and burn in silence, his mind buzzing, his middle clenched tight with hope and dread in perfect concert. What would Dimitri say? What _could_ he say?

But the prince remained quiet, sitting so near their knees nearly touched, staring just as Felix was into the crackling flames. 

He could only take so much. 

“ _What,_ ” he snapped, finally, flinging the word like a challenge. Dimitri startled beside him, and Felix swiveled his head around to face him, only to find him looking… distant, eyes clouded, his expression hopelessly confused. 

Felix felt a little like he might vomit, again. 

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri said, bland and pleasant and just a little bit stilted, like he was reading from a script. “Did I say something? I didn’t intend to speak aloud.” 

Felix felt his brow crease, his mind curling around the absurdity of that statement. “You didn’t,” he said, flatly. 

Dimitri licked his lips. It wasn’t like him to make such an unprincely gesture. “I hope I didn’t say anything upsetting,” he said.

The crease between Felix’s brows deepened considerably. “You didn’t say anything,” he clarified. 

Relief flooded Dimitri’s features. “Ah,” he said, brightening at once. “That’s good, then.” 

The fire popped. Felix stared at him, struggling to make sense of the encounter. He had given considerable thought to the possibility of this moment, or to some version of it, at least. He’d fantasized about finally having a conversation, sitting down with Dimitri and discussing all the things that had led them so far apart. None of those imagined conversations had ever looked remotely like this. 

“Dimitri,” he said, slowly. “Do you want to talk to me, or not?” 

Dimitri shifted on the bench, and smiled, again. It was his royal smile, his princely smile, the vacant learned expression he wore when he knew he couldn’t allow the face he actually wanted to make show.

And suddenly, Felix was just -- tired. Very, very tired. 

And lonely, a little part of him recognized. Tired and lonely. And sad, and confused, and _angry,_ and -- and -- 

He stood up, abruptly, and was pleased at least to see Dimitri’s bland and pleasant expression melt instead into one of faint alarm. “Felix?” he blinked, gazing up at him. 

“Forget it,” he said. A dull ache pressed behind his eyes, one he knew far, far too well. Tears threatening to escape. He refused to give into it ever again, if he could help it. “This is pointless, isn’t it? I don’t understand you, anymore. I don’t know if you’ve ever understood me. Can’t you at least just leave me alone to do my duty here in peace?” 

He barely stopped himself from flinching back in horror, the mangled specter of his father’s words spilling out of his mouth. He snapped it shut and swallowed, hard. 

“Felix…” Dimitri said again, softer, and then he shook his head and stood, as well. “I’m sorry. I was… distracted. I did want to talk to you.” He leaned forward, then, and incredibly, took Felix’s hand. “Can’t we just talk, for awhile? It’s been so long. I… ah, come with me? Please.” 

Felix stared down at their joined hands, the ache behind his eyes intensifying. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so instead, he gave a silent nod. 

“Thank you,” Dimitri whispered, and then he gave his hand a gentle tug, pulling him away from the fire. 

A hundred pairs of eyes seemed to follow them into the dark and chill and the relative quiet, further from the heart of their little camp. They were heading to the royal tent, Felix realized. Dimitri was leading him by the hand to his private tent to talk. 

His heart beat so loudly, he was sure Dimitri would overhear it. 

If he did, he deferred as always to politeness and said nothing, merely lifting the heavy woven fabric flap at the front of his tent and gesturing for Felix to enter first. He let go of his hand, in the process, and Felix’s fingers tingled where they had touched. 

Dimitri’s tent was very dark, inside. Felix stumbled blindly forward, and Dimitri shuffled in past him with a quiet apology and let the flap fall shut behind him, leaving them in near total darkness. Then there was a metal sound, a little hiss and a quiet sigh as Dimitri found and lit a lantern, illuminating his face and the space around them.

He set the light down in a corner, and then turned to face Felix with a quiet little sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, yet again. “I don’t do well so close to the fire. I --” 

“Stop apologizing,” Felix interrupted, his voice harsh and catching in his throat. Dimitri snapped his mouth closed and merely looked at him, his expression mild. “Say whatever you want to say and be done with it,” he said, and he made the words cold and clipped and demanding, because he didn’t want to beg. Glenn would never have been caught begging anyone for anything. 

“Very well,” Dimitri said. He cleared his throat and gave him a wary look, and for a moment the flash of anxious recalcitrance in his gaze made Felix feel horribly, crushingly guilty. When had Dimitri decided to be afraid of him? He had never been afraid of Glenn. It wasn’t fair. “What I wanted to say, then, is that… well. Felix.” He took a breath, deep and audible. “I miss you.” 

All thoughts of Glenn and guilt and what was fair or not fled Felix’s mind. 

“You do?” he said, speaking before he could think. It came out painfully sincere, fairly dripping with raw emotion. He bit his own tongue, viciously, but even as he watched, the fear and uncertainty melted out of Dimitri’s gaze and gave way to another smile.

Not his formal, princely smile, the one he used when he needed an expression to hide behind. This was his real, wonderful, dazzling smile, the one that had always made Felix feel warm all the way down to the tips of his toes, and he felt the corners of his own mouth turn cautiously up in reflexive response. 

And then they laughed together, simultaneously, awkwardly and nervously and breathlessly, their soft, embarrassed little chuckles mingling in the meager light of Dimitri’s little lantern. Felix ducked his head and Dimitri clasped his hands before him and they both shook their heads together, incredulous at how ridiculous it had all become. 

“I do,” Dimitri said, gravely, tightening his fingers about one another, clasped before him still. “I miss you. I know that I have been… strange, and things are… more difficult, now.” He swallowed, the ball of his throat visibly bobbing. Felix watched it move, entranced. “I should have made more of an effort before now, but Felix, I... I was afraid. It is not an adequate excuse, I know. But that is the truth. I was afraid you would turn me away. That you would want nothing to do with me as I am, anymore. That I… that you…” 

“Dimitri,” Felix said, breathless and aching, giddy and furious in equal measure. “You don’t ever have to be afraid of me, okay?” He winced. That didn’t sound much like Glenn, at all. “I mean, I -- I’ve been afraid, too.” He shook his head. Neither did that.

Accusations piled on his tongue, then. _You never said a word about Glenn,_ he thought. _You never told me what happened to you._ That ache behind his eyes came back, worse than ever. _You locked your door and shut me out and the only time I heard your voice for months and months was when you’d wake me up at night with your screaming._

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri whispered, eyes wide, like he could hear all those wounded thoughts, loud and clear.

Felix took a deep breath, so deep it made his lungs hurt. 

“I don’t want you to apologize,” he said, sharply. “I want you to _talk_ to me, again. I want…” his breath hitched, and he shook his head, hard, willing his voice to be steady. “I want you to trust me, again.” 

“Felix, I do trust you!” Dimitri gasped. “I never stopped trusting you! I, I just…” 

Frustration bubbled over. “If you trusted me, you wouldn’t be _afraid_ of me! You’d _talk_ to me.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You only ever talk to your uncle and your knights and that boy you found in Duscur --” 

“Dedue,” Dimitri said, quietly but firmly interrupting. “His name is Dedue.”

“I know his _name,_ ” Felix hissed back. 

Dimitri met his gaze and set his jaw. “Then you should use it,” he said. 

That awful, pressing ache at the back of his eyes coalesced into blurry heat, and Felix swore softly under his breath and pressed the heels of his palms viciously against his eyes. “ _Fine,_ ” he said, recognizing his own petulance and unable to help himself, regardless. “I’m _sorry._ You only ever talk to your uncle, and your knights, and _Dedue,_ anymore, and I’ve been so worried, Dimitri, all right? It’s like you don’t understand how scared we all were, when you were -- hurt -- and the stories from Fhirdiad, after! And you never visit anymore, you just lock yourself away in your stupid c-castle and you never said a single word about it to me _ever_ , not about Glenn, and not about _you,_ and not about anything, and you used to tell me _everything_ , we used to be b-best _friends!_ ” 

His breath hitched again, and he bent forward at the waist, still pressing his palms hard against his eyes. 

He heard Dimitri step forward. Heard the rustle of cloth as he leaned closer, and then, the warmth of his hands on his shoulders, his grip just ever so slightly too tight. 

“Felix,” Dimitri whispered. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop it,” Felix whispered back. “I’m not -- I’m not some whining, whimpering crybaby you need to console, like, like --” 

“I know,” Dimitri said, but he folded his arms over Felix’s shoulders anyway, looping about him all loose and awkward. His breath tickled Felix’s ear. “I don’t know what else to do. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to stop being your friend. I never meant for any of this. Things happened so fast. They’re still happening too fast. I…” His arms tightened, pulling him closer, and Felix stumbled helplessly forward into his embrace. 

Dimitri’s words trailed off into silence, and Felix made a little sound that was _definitely_ not a hitching sob and dragged his own arms jerkily up to return the gesture.

He tried not to cling too hard. He’d always been too clingy, too needy, too soft and weak and such a little _baby_ , he knew he had been. He tried to keep his breathing steady and deep and even. He wasn’t a little kid, anymore. He was heir to House Fraldarius, now, the next Shield of Faerghus, and he needed to be strong -- for the realm, for Dimitri, for Ingrid and Sylvain and even for his father, too. 

“This is so dumb,” he whispered, when the silence between them stretched on too long. “Dimitri.” He breathed deep. The ache behind his eyes was less, now, fading. He stepped back, shaking himself out of Dimitri’s grip, though everything in him wanted desperately to remain there, possibly forever. He shook his head. “We’re fine, okay? It’s fine.” 

Dimitri nodded, slowly. He gave him an uncertain look, and then nodded again, a little more firmly. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’m glad.” 

They stood there, shifting awkwardly on their feet. Felix dropped his eyes and glanced toward the tent flap. “Is that all?” He didn’t want to go. He didn’t know how to communicate that he wanted to stay without sounding weak or presumptuous or both. 

“Don’t go,” Dimitri said, quickly, exactly like he’d read his thoughts, again. Felix raised his eyes, questioning, and even in the shadowy, inadequate lantern light, he could see the way Dimitri blushed. 

Which made him blush, in turn, like it was catching. 

“You can stay with me, can’t you?” Dimitri said, gazing at him with those wide blue eyes, so imploring. He gestured around. “There is plenty of room for us both. You can bring your bedroll in here, and…” he trailed off, biting his lip. “Like we used to. Only if you wish to, of course.” 

Felix had a thought, then. A sharp, jagged sort of thought, slicing through him to the core. _Does Dedue do that for you now, in Fhirdiad? Are you only asking me now because your uncle wouldn’t let him come?_

He bit his tongue, again. He knew better than to say it out loud. Instead, he simply nodded, pressing his lips tight together, desperately afraid that if he let any words out, Dimitri might change his mind. 

They weren’t little kids, anymore. Grown men didn’t share beds or tents or curl up tight together through the night. 

“Let me get my things,” he mumbled. 

“I’ll go with you,” Dimitri said. 

A hundred knights and squires and soldiers watched them make their way through the camp, back and forth, or so it felt to Felix. 

They watched, but not one of them dared to say a single word. 

*

The fighting didn’t start the next day, or the next, or even the next after that.

Felix rode at the head of the column, at Dimitri’s right side. They spoke in soft murmurs, noting how quiet the countryside was around them, how odd it was to see sown fields left abandoned, pigs and sheep milling about in fenced pastures unattended. It was as though the very land was holding its breath, waiting for the rebel and the royal armies to meet. 

When the column slowed and stopped, just before sunset, Felix remained close by Dimitri’s side. They took their supper together, listened to the scouts’ daily reports together, and quietly discussed strategy and tactics together with their senior knights. 

And then they retired to Dimitri’s tent, together, too.

They’d started with their bedrolls an arm’s length apart, but when they woke to find themselves tangled in the blankets, half out of the bedding to meet in the middle, they mutually decided amidst stammered apologies to push the things together, after all. 

Felix had always been the one who initiated these things, who always strived to cling to Dimitri as closely as possible, quite literally. It had always been Felix slipping into Dimitri’s room after dark and crawling apologetically into his bed, no matter if they were in Fraldarius or Fhirdiad or anywhere around or in between. 

It was a shock, then, to have Dimitri curling insistently up to _him_ , now, instead. To have him thread their fingers together and hold him tightly, to hear _Dimitri_ bolt awake with a shuddering sob on his lips and feel him reach for him in the dark. He had nightmares, he explained, amidst gulping gasps of air. Night terrors, every night. Felix woke once to the sound of him whimpering softly, flat on his back, gazing wide-eyed up at nothing, all his muscles tensed so tight he felt stiff as stone when Felix grabbed him to shake him awake. 

It frightened him down to his very core. 

But when Dimitri apologized for it, over and over again, Felix shushed him with a word or a shake of his head or both.

Glenn had explained to him, once, that a man could only truly be brave when he was first afraid. 

Felix was the future Shield of Faerghus, and he could be as brave as he needed to be, especially for Dimitri’s sake. 

On the seventh day of their journey west, Dimitri seemed to read his thoughts, again. 

“Are you afraid?” he asked, softly, curled on his side to face him, his right hand held tightly in Felix’s left. Scrawled field reports formed a neat pile at their feet, and the late, lingering daylight bled in around the heavy flap of the royal tent and left long shadows across their faces.

“No,” Felix said, too quickly. “I could never be afraid of you.” 

Dimitri blinked at him, and then a little crease folded between his brows and he gave him a severe sort of look -- for Dimitri, anyway. “No, I meant -- of the battle. The rebels. Not…” he tilted his head. “Are you afraid of me, Felix?” 

“I just said I wasn’t!” Felix said, face hot. “Weren’t you listening? I’m not afraid of _anything_ , so the answer is no to that, too, all right? They’re just some -- nobody rebels. It’s more a militia than a proper army. Just a step up from peasants with pitchforks, I heard some of the soldiers say.” 

Dimitri simply gazed at him, quiet and contemplative, until Felix had to avert his gaze, squirming. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” he repeated, firmly. “Dimitri.” 

“All right,” Dimitri said. “Would you think less of me, if I said… I’m a little bit afraid, Felix?” 

“Of… yourself?” Felix blinked at him. “Or the rebels, still?” 

Dimitri smiled, a sad sort of smile that made Felix’s heart ache. It made him want to crawl in closer and pull Dimitri tight against his chest. “Both,” he said, so softly it was hard to hear. 

Felix heart kicked up, pounding loud in his chest, and he didn’t know why. “Why?” he whispered. 

Dimitri opened his mouth, like he was ready with an answer, and then Felix _saw_ him reconsider, watched his expression flow from resignation to uncertainty and back again, clear as anything. “Felix,” he sighed, instead of answering, and then he closed his eyes tight and squeezed his hand even tighter. “I can’t even hold a proper conversation, if I’m too close to the bonfire,” he said. “You’ve seen that yourself. I’m afraid that once the fighting begins, I… I won’t be able to stomach it. I’ll be back in Duscur, amidst the blood and flames, and... perhaps I’ll run away. Or, maybe…” he shook his head. “I have these thoughts, sometimes…” 

“You won’t,” Felix said, firmly. He scooted closer, pulling Dimitri insistently toward him. Dimitri’s eyes fluttered open, searching his face, and for once Felix did his very best to hold his gaze, as long as he could stand it. “You won’t,” he repeated. “Besides, I’ll be with you, okay? I’ll be right there by your side.” He took a deep breath. He could do it, he thought. He could be as strong as he needed to be. For the realm, yes, but for _Dimitri_ , he could do anything. “If you feel scared or you want to run, you just look at me,” he said. 

Dimitri laughed, soft and sweet, rolling close and pulling his bedcovers over to cover them both. Felix flushed crimson, especially when Dimitri leveraged their new and nearer proximity to reach up and brush his hair gently out of his face. His heart leapt up into his throat and beat there so fast it practically buzzed like a hummingbird. 

“You’ve changed so much,” Dimitri said, softly, his fingertips warm where they brushed against Felix’s forehead, and then lower, over his ear. “You’ve grown so much. You’ll make a fine Duke, someday.” And then he smiled that bright, wonderful smile he had that lit his whole face up like the sun, and Felix forgot how to breathe. “Thank you, Felix,” Dimitri whispered. “I’ll remember that.” 

Felix didn’t think he could speak around his hummingbird heart still lodged firmly in the hollow of his throat, so instead, he gave him a weak, mute nod. Dimitri let his palm rest gently against his cheek. 

“When we were younger…” he began, like the preamble was at all welcome or necessary, and Felix hissed out a breath and caught his hand and gave him a fierce and furious glare. 

“We’re _not_ little kids anymore,” Felix said, his voice hot. “So either do it or don’t, but if you don’t want to do it for real, don’t hide behind _when we were younger_ like some sort of coward, first.” 

Dimitri laughed again, his eyes shining in the lantern light. “Very well,” he said. “Well said, Felix. I won’t.” 

And then he leaned in, exactly the way he often had when they’d been younger and the world had been simpler, only instead of kissing Felix’s forehead or his cheek, he closed his eyes and pressed their lips together, gently. His lips were soft and dry and warm, and Felix made a soft little sound against them, a little surprised whimper, desperately trying to commit as many details of the moment to memory as possible. Dimitri chuckled against him in turn, and then the moment passed entirely, and Dimitri fluttered his eyes open and pulled his face back and licked his lips. Felix watched his tongue move and made another embarrassing little noise, and then he rolled over onto his back and covered his face and breathed in deep through his nose. 

“Are you all right?” Dimitri whispered. “Felix? Was that all right?” 

“Yes,” Felix assured him, pressing his palms in tight against his eyelids. He hated the way he sounded, breathless and overwhelmed, but he loved to hear the very same sorts of things in _Dimitri’s_ voice, so maybe they came out even. He dropped his hands and opened his eyes. “Hey. I, um. Was that… the first time, you…?” 

“Of course,” Dimitri said, sounding, of all things, slightly affronted. “What, do you think I go about, kissing just anyone --” 

“No!” Felix gasped, turning back to face him, red faced and sweating. He glared. “Don’t you put words in my mouth!” 

“Well, I -- don’t _you_ \--” 

“ _Dimitri_ ,” Felix snapped. “Forget it! Just do it again, all right?” 

Dimitri’s eyes widened, and his mouth snapped shut again, so quick it was almost funny. He nodded, fast and hard. 

And then he leaned in as requested, and did it again. 

*

Outside, in the distance, the light on the horizon shifted from blazing orange to blood red, and a single, lonely signal horn began to blow.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter - [@landofsmthsmth](https://twitter.com/landofsmthsmth)


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